


no laughing matter

by grliegirl



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Based on Pages 28-31 of Punchline #1 Comic, Blood, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bloodplay, Canon Compliant, Chaos, Cunnilingus, Dark, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Knifeplay, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grliegirl/pseuds/grliegirl
Summary: They say the third time's the charm and Alexis Kaye is certain that tonight's the night, but the evening unfolds much differently than originally planned... and all she can do is laugh.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Alexis Kaye, Joker (DCU)/Punchline, Joker/Alexis Kaye, Joker/Punchline
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	no laughing matter

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I heard the news that the Joker was getting a new girlfriend in the comics, I immediately became OBSESSED. The Joker and Punchline seemed like it had the potential to be the dark ship of my dreams and so far they have not disappointed! I absolutely loved their interactions and even though I will always love Harley Quinn it's obvious Punchline is a way better match for the Clown Prince of Crime. Their part in the Joker War was so fun to watch unfold and I was beyond ecstatic when it was announced Punchline would be getting her own one-shot comic. 
> 
> So of course I read it and well, it inspired me to write my very own one shot. 
> 
> A smutty one.
> 
> Because it's what PunchJokes deserve :D 
> 
> So what happened between pages 31 and 32 of Punchline #1? Read on to find out...

* * *

She waited impatiently, tapping her foot. Despite her nerves, she had a good feeling about tonight. A malicious smirk creeped on her face, which she had painted in her signature clown makeup.

Oh yes, she had a _real_ good feeling about tonight. 

Humming cheerfully to herself, she began to pace, her high heeled boots clicking loudly on the marble floor. 

_Any minute now_ , she amped herself up. 

“Miss, we really can’t have you loitering here.” 

Alexis Kaye paused in her pacing, casting a sidelong look at the snooty maître d’. “If you don’t have a reservation I really must ask you to leave,” he said, looking down his nose at her attire. 

She was dressed in what she now considered her signature look, donning a black figure-flattering halter dress over a three quarter sleeve purple bodysuit and purple thigh-high stockings. A pair of black leather gloves and black over-the-knee boots completed her ensemble. 

“Reservation?” Alexis scoffed, walking over to the short man in the monkey suit. The statuesque brunette towered over him in her heels. “I bet Bruce Wayne himself can’t even get a reservation here.” 

Alexis scanned the elegant dining room behind him, quiet and refined with its opulent lighting and pristine white tablecloths. _Les Poissons_ was Gotham City’s oldest premiere fine dining restaurant, a place where the elite came to be seen having their celebratory gatherings and romantic dinners. It was the very antithesis of Gotham, exceptionally civilized and completely safe. No one would ever expect anything out of the ordinary, let alone horrific, to happen here. But Alexis knew that would soon come to change. 

_Very soon_. 

“Besides–” the pompous man continued, ignoring her snide comment, “–even if you did have a reservation, I would still need to ask you to leave for not abiding by _Les Poissons_ ’s dress code.” 

Alexis rolled her eyes before putting on a fake smile. “I think my bomb ass costume should be the least of your concerns right now, dude.” 

He wrinkled his nose, offended. “Is that so?” 

Alexis nodded in a mocking manner. 

Now it was the maître d’s turn to scoff. “I see, so in your opinion what should I be concerned with, hmm?” 

A scream came from the dining room, startling him. 

“Ask and you shall receive,” Alexis replied, playing with the hair at the end of her high ponytail. 

He whirled around to see the tranquil dining room erupt into sudden chaos. He uttered a profanity before darting into the dining room. 

“Finally!” Alexis breathed a sigh of relief, tossing her hair back. 

She crossed her arms and smiled, looking on as the full-blown mayhem ensued. Chairs were tumbling, wine glasses were breaking, guests and waiters alike were dropping like flies, people were cursing, screaming, and crying. 

“ _HELP!_ ”

“ _Someone call 911!_ ” 

“ _She can’t breathe! SHE’S NOT BREATHING!_ ”

“ _He’s choking!_ ”

Alexis sauntered into the dining room, relishing her triumph. Her latest blend of special poison was working beautifully, just as she’d hoped. Her elation was short lived, though. She reached the nearest table, pausing to take a closer look at one of her victims, and her high spirits were quickly squashed, replaced with irritation and rage. 

“ _NO!_ ” she yelled, frustrated. 

_Why isn’t it working? It should’ve worked this time!_ she fumed inwardly. 

She had spent weeks tweaking and perfecting her latest formula, adding a pinch more nitrogen with this batch. But to her chagrin, it still wasn’t yielding all of the desired effects. She slammed her fist on the table, jostling the three candle centerpiece, almost knocking it over. Her eyes fixed on the man gasping for air in front of her. 

“No, dammit! You’re supposed to be laughing!” she huffed, taking two large strides towards him. 

Once within reach she grabbed him by the collar and yanked his face up close. She saw the broken blood vessels on his glistening cheeks, wet from tears streaming down from his unblinking eyes. Her left hand gripped his chin painfully. “I said, _start laughing_.” 

She knew it was pointless. The man could not even wince from the pain of her grip, let alone follow a command. Glycine, the paralytic agent in her poison, was doing its job well. Perhaps she just needed to wait a bit longer for the giggles to kick in...

Alexis let a few more seconds tick by, hoping against hope that he’d burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, but no such luck. And it wasn’t just this man. Her gaze swept the entire room, realizing none of her other victims were laughing either. 

Not a single one. 

She failed once again. 

Snarling petulantly as her patience wore thin, Alexis decided to take matters into her own hands. 

Exasperated and angry, she unsheathed a knife from her boot. Patience was never her strong suit anyway, and that especially was true when she was fucking pissed. Thankfully, she could take out her inner discontent on this man. 

If he wouldn’t laugh, then she would _make_ him laugh. 

Acting on impulse and pure outrage she sliced through the man’s cheek with one swift upward stroke. The force with which she cut made the man’s blood splatter in all directions, a good amount landing on her jaw, staining it a garish shade of red. The man didn’t flinch, remaining motionless, yet behind his fixed gaze was a glimmer of agony. 

Alexis was blind to it, though, and without another thought sliced open his other cheek; crimson liquid splashed through the air. 

She cocked her head to one side and scrutinized her work. Upon seeing that both lacerations were not the same length, she decided it needed immediate rectification. She lifted her knife again to perfect the man’s synthetic smile. Alexis gasped when her hand hung mid-air, high above her, ready to strike had it not been for the gloved hand wrapped around her wrist, holding her back. 

All her muscles tensed, her spine stiffening. The hair on the back of her neck bristled when warm breath grazed her skin from behind.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as a whirlwind of emotions coursed through her veins, the most prevalent being excitement.

She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. 

Alexis knew whose hand it was that stopped her from completing her macabre masterpiece. She knew whose body moved closer, pulling up against hers. Her body responded, leaning back into him to soak up his heat.

The Joker had finally found her. 

He was here. 

It was him. 

It was really him! 

Blood dripped slowly from her knife. The room became so quiet one could hear a pin drop. When some droplets of blood hit the floor, the sound was deafening. It nearly made Alexis want to cover her ears but she was as paralyzed as her victims. Then she heard his all-too-familiar yet all-too-alien voice whisper delicately in her ear, “You don’t have the formula quite right.” 

Regaining command of her muscles, she turned her head slightly, gravitating towards the magnetic man behind her. Her nerves were going haywire, her body on full alert as she flushed all over her freckled face. There was a crackle. A hiss. A surge of electricity when she felt his free hand wrap around her small waist, his long fingers resting sublimely on her hips. 

Alexis knew she wasn’t dreaming. 

This wasn’t one of the many fantasies she concocted over the years of their second meeting. 

No, the Joker was really actually here in person. And he was talking to her. He was _touching_ her, more intimately than she’d ever been before in her entire life. 

Alexis took a deep breath, inhaling his unique scent as a few more scarlet drops fell away from her knife. He tightened his grip, pressing their bodies closer. Goosebumps broke out over her skin as the corners of her mouth turned upward. 

“I can help you make it better,” he offered, feeling him get hard against her ass. The lascivious contact triggered something in her brain and instinct kicked in. She took a moment to savor the fact that she was turning him on, confirming the attraction was mutual and not one-sided. Then Alexis, naturally, declined his offer. 

“No,” she said sternly. 

Before the Joker could react to her seemingly out of the blue rejection, she headbutted him. The unexpected blow knocked the Joker off balance, and he stumbled backward, releasing Alexis from his seductive hold. 

She spun wildly around to face him, knife still in hand. A wild and determined glint shined in her green eyes as she nicked his right shoulder with calculated precision. 

The Joker gasped, surprised as his hand flew to his fresh new cut, trying to stop the bleeding. His shoulders hunched as he stared up at Alexis. There was neither fear or indignation in the Clown Prince of Crime’s eyes, but a curious and heady mix of bewilderment and awe. The look made Alexis’s knees wobble but she somehow managed to stand her ground, looming over him in a threatening stance. 

Bringing the sharp end of her knife up against his chin, she grinned from ear to ear and said, “I think we can help each other.” 

Alexis needed the Joker to know how serious her devotion to him was, to understand exactly how deep her feelings for him ran. They came from within her very soul, the core of her entire being. She didn’t want him to see her as some stupid girl who would be satisfied with a henchmen position. No, she wanted more than to be another one of his many nameless, faceless lackeys. She fervently desired to be at his side, helping him take down the fake society people lived in. He needed to understand how much she believed in him and his message, and how much she wished to spread it to all corners of the world. 

She wanted to be his partner. 

The Joker gawked at her, his features perking with interest as Alexis precariously angled her knife. He remained vigilant, which was good, Alexis wanted him to be on full alert. It meant he saw her as a possible threat, and it meant he was taking her seriously. She didn’t want him underestimating her just as she was not underestimating him. 

“You think I need your help?” he intoned, raising a green eyebrow. 

“Yes, you do, because you see, a joke is nothing without its punchline,” Alexis said. “One cannot exist without the other. In order for the audience to laugh, they work _together_. They need one another.”

“Ah, so you’re saying you want to be the punchline to my jokes… is that right?” the Joker asked, making Alexis’ green eyes grow bright and wide. 

“Yes!” she exclaimed as her left hand grabbed his collar, pulling his face closer to hers. 

The mood in the room changed. A sublime electricity, sizzling and robust, passed between the two of them. The air was tinged with heat as Alexis’s right hand held her blade to his throat. 

Her gaze wandered to where the Joker’s hand was clutching his wound, catching a tantalizing glimpse of bleached flesh. 

_That’s definitely gonna leave a scar,_ she thought smugly. 

The fact excited her further, imagining what the rest of him looked like without any clothes on. 

“I can make people finally hear your joke,” Alexis continued, bringing her face down to his, a mere hair’s breadth away from their mouths touching. “I’m your punchline.” 

He said nothing, but she saw one, then both sides of the Joker’s mouth leisurely rise into a wanton grin before he placed his left hand on the back of her head. 

Her heart stuttered. 

Even though Alexis was twenty two years old, she had never been kissed before. She had never been remotely interested in anyone enough to want to. Alexis had always been a bit of a loner, keeping to herself as much as humanly possible. She didn’t have any friends really. She always viewed people as simpleminded, boring, and insignificant. A bunch of fake pretenders. 

That changed the day she encountered the man before her. The day he had chosen her to bring his message to Gotham, even if it was random at first. Now everything she did was for his cause, because she believed in him and what he stood for. She had wanted the Joker to notice her and he had. 

And he was _here_ , waiting for her next move _._

It was obvious he wanted to kiss her… and Alexis _wanted_ him to. 

She didn’t pull away. 

Her grin matched his, all carnal delight. In that titillating moment, she wanted nothing more than to taste his tempting mouth. 

They giggled softly together before closing their eyes, and pursed their lips. Their mouths melded together into a hungry, all-consuming kiss. Their fevered kiss was hard. Possessive. She groaned and he sighed. Her entire body tingled with desire she’d never felt before as she continued to kiss him with abandon, her heart racing out of control. This was both everything and nothing like she envisioned their second encounter to be. And in the back of her mind, she remembered he hadn’t rejected her offer to work together. 

“Punchline has a nice ring to it,” the Joker said breathlessly when he suddenly broke the kiss. “I like it.” 

She had barely registered the moment they parted when, without warning, she found herself sitting atop of the nearest white cloth covered table. The Joker had lifted her in one fell swoop, the sudden motion making her accidentally cut his left shoulder. He was unfazed. 

“Do I frighten you?” he asked without preamble. 

“No,” she replied truthfully. 

“Oh, goodie!” he laughed as his arms caged her on either side. “Most people are... but I had a feeling you weren’t.” 

“Do _I_ frighten _you_?” she couldn’t resist asking. 

The Joker wrinkled his brow and glanced slowly around the room full of victims, some dead, a few still writhing in pain. “Oh, yes–” he said jokingly, fixing his gaze on the disfigured man on the floor beside their table, gasping for air through clenched, bloody teeth, “–but I think _he’s_ a tiny bit more scared than I am.” 

He laughed loudly and she smiled contently, looking down at the dying man below them. She saw pure terror in his eyes. Ropy sinews dangled from his gaping cheek. Her glee turned to embarrassment and irritation at the sight of her failure. 

_He’s still not laughing_ , she growled internally, feeling a strong urge to hop down from the table and finish what she’d started. She had sliced through his right cheek quite easily but was interrupted before she could perfect his left cheek, causing his Glasgow smile to look lopsided. 

Ever the perfectionist she shifted to rectify the matter, but the Joker held her back, fully aware of the knife she still held in her hand. 

He met no resistance when his hips nudged her legs apart, wedging himself between her knees. An unexpected warmth inundated her senses, and her long legs moved on their own, wrapping themselves around his waist. 

She let go of his collar to drape her left arm over his right shoulder. Her knuckles tightened around the hilt of the knife in her right hand, then slowly dragged the cool metal blade down the side of his face. He grinned almost as widely as she was grinning. 

“He should be laughing,” she told him. “I want to make him laugh.” 

“I wouldn’t worry too much about him,” the Joker said, leaning in. “There are other more _pressing_ matters to attend to right now.”

“Oh? Really?” she teased, relishing the way his eyes undressed her with deliberate focus. 

The Joker licked his lips suggestively and caressed her blood-stained jaw, trailing his long finger down her neck, then between her breasts. She grabbed his wandering hand firmly, and guided him to cup her left breast with it. She hissed as he gave an almost painful but not unpleasant squeeze. 

Having never been touched in such a way before, it took her a moment to regain her composure. Once she did, she felt compelled to ask, “Do you remember when we first met?” 

He stared at her with a bemused expression. “We’ve met before?” 

“Four years ago, my school took a field trip to the Gotham News Network television station, and unbeknownst to all of us, _you_ were there. That was when you told me that I was going to be the one to deliver your message to Gotham... but you also said something else to me. Do you remember?” 

The Joker’s eyes rolled up in thought, trying to recall. 

“You told me, and I quote, ‘ _don’t fuck it up_ ,’” Alexis reminded him, fixing the Joker with a menacing look. “This will be my first time,” she said, pointing the knifepoint at his jugular notch, “so _don’t fuck it up_.” She pressed down the blade ever so slightly, not enough to cut, but enough to test the resilience of the thin skin there. 

The Joker chuckled as he bent forward, and Alexis moaned when a thick, dark red drop emerged from the end of her blade. 

“My dear,” the Joker tittered, unruffled by both the fact that he was bleeding and her confession to being a virgin, ”I think that was a poor choice of words... because, correct me if I’m wrong, but _fucking_ is _exactly_ what you want me to do.” 

His pupils–which normally were fixed–seemed to have dilated, the change so imperceptible anyone else would have failed to notice. 

But she didn’t. 

Alexis noticed and desire pooled deeper inside her. 

“Yes,” she panted, releasing her knife from his throat. Emboldened by the rush of hormones, she brought the sanguineous tip of her blade to the corner of her mouth, smearing his blood all across her bottom lip. “I do want you to fuck me, Joker.” She rubbed her lips together before flashing her pearly whites at him, grinning widely. 

“Why, it’d be my pleasure, _Punchline_.” 

Her breath caught in her throat at the low sound of her new moniker on his lips. 

The Joker’s face split into a pleased grin and he held out a gloved hand expectantly. “May I?” 

There was no hesitation on her part, even as her heart thumped wildly, as if it wanted to burst right out of her chest. Not wasting the opportunity to show off her knife skills, she swiftly twisted the hilt in between her fingers, flipping it in mid-air before placing the knife in his open palm. 

“Neat trick,” the Joker remarked, wrapping his fingers around the handle. “Let’s see what else this bad boy can do.” 

His eyes burned into hers and it was nothing short of a miracle that she didn’t combust right there on the table under his heated gaze. 

Punchline bore into his eyes as the Joker gently placed his unoccupied hand at the base of her bare neck. She really wished he’d have taken off his gloves so that she could have felt his skin on hers. She had no doubt his touch would’ve burned deliciously. 

The Joker pulled her face against his, brushing her blood stained lips with his. Her eyes fluttered shut at the intoxicating contact, and she whimpered when he lightly slid his tongue across her bottom lip. He repeated the motion across her top lip as she felt the cool metal of her knife glide gingerly down the left side of her face and neck. Her senses caught alight, needing more of his fire against her skin. 

“Ya know,” the Joker said and Punchline opened her eyes, meeting his gaze, “at first, I thought what happened at the office building downtown was some kind of fluke that maybe one of my clowns did. But then, shortly afterwards, a group of homeless people under the overpass were killed in the same manner. By the time I heard about the subway attack, I knew these weren’t accidents. This was all _planned_ , but not by me or any of my boys. Which meant there was someone else out there… as bloodthirsty and dangerous as me, trying to get my attention—” 

He paused to glide the tip of the blade back up her neck and face. 

“That was the point,” she confessed, relishing the feel of the cool edged steel. “I wanted you to seek me out. To find me. Took you long enough… though I had hoped it would’ve been when I had perfected my formula.”

“Well, I’m here now.” He moved his head, making his lips whisk across hers. “And not only am I intrigued, but I’m also impressed. You said we could help each other and well, I’m nothing if not a gentleman—” he broke off mid-sentence as a laugh bubbled up out of him, “—so ladies first. Allow me to help you, dear.”

“With the formula?” 

“Uh, maybe later.” A devious grin played around his mouth and her unsated need intensified, pooling moisture between her thighs. “But right now I was thinkin’ more with helping you out of that pretty little costume.”

“Please… help...” a mewling victim pleaded strenuously from nearby, mirroring the words Punchline wished to utter but was too frozen in hungry anticipation to do so. 

Her mouth felt dry and her knees weak. In that moment she found herself grateful to have been sitting and not standing. 

The glint of her knife from the candlelight flashed in the corner of her eye, and adrenaline raced through her. 

Punchline blinked and missed the instant the Joker had expertly cut through the strap of her halter dress. It was now sliding down her body, stopping at her waist. She shuddered even though her purple bodysuit still clung to her, accentuating her ample bosom and defined arm muscles.

She was afforded the rare opportunity to ogle at the Clown Prince of Crime as he focused on his task at hand. He was tall and broad shouldered. His slim but fit frame looked rather dashing, dressed sharply in a black, white, and purple three piece vested suit. Her legs quivered around the Joker as he continued slicing haphazardly through fabric. Soon her dress was nothing but a pile of shredded black pieces. 

“Now that that’s done,” the Joker said, throwing up some bits like confetti, “time to—”

“Wait.” 

The Joker grunted disapprovingly when Punchline interrupted him, grabbing his wrist before he could cut off her top. He was surprised at the strength of her grasp. She was much stronger than she looked and the Joker was reminded to not underestimate her… which he very much liked. 

“It’s my turn now,” she announced with a sultry glance. 

There was a flash of movement as she swiped the knife from his hand. Unwrapping her lengthy legs from his waist, she jumped off the table to stand. Remnants of what used to be her dress fell to the floor when she straightened. The Joker reflexively took a step back, but she quickly closed the space between them, pressing her body flush against his. 

She looked up at him under her dark lashes, angling her knife under his chin again. 

“While I do appreciate you getting all dressed up for this rendezvous tonight,” she said, tilting her head, “I think you’re overdressed for this part of the evening.” The corner of her lip turned up in a half smirk. “Take your jacket off.” 

“Sure,” the Joker gave a chortle, shedding his jacket. “It was starting to get a little _hot_ in here anyways.” 

“Just a bit,” Punchline acknowledged. 

He made a show of removing his suit jacket, flinging it across the large dining room. It landed over a smiling dead body on the floor as he began to unbutton his shirt. When Punchline saw what he was doing she immediately brought down her knife over his knuckles, and the Joker gave her a startled glance. 

“Hey!” he scowled as blood began to seep from his fingers. 

Punchline brought the knife back up to his throat. “I didn’t tell you to unbutton your shirt… that’s my job.” 

The Joker’s glower twisted into a knowing smile. “Oh.” 

She kissed his bloody knuckles, smudging her black lipstick with his blood again. He laughed raucously and she stared up at him, catching her lip in her teeth to taste the salty sweet metallic liquid. 

A pleased smile was on his lips again, a hint of mischief gleaming in his eyes. She tilted her head up and seized his lips. He continued to laugh through their fevered kiss, and she joined in his mirth, giggling lowly as she used her knife to pop off the buttons of his vest and shirt. 

One by one they fell to the floor, rolling among the groaning and slain bodies around them. Her mouth stayed hard on his, unyielding, capturing the sound of his laughter on her lips. Taking advantage of his open mouth, she explored it greedily with her tongue, running along every inch she had access to. He tasted like a morbid and intoxicating delicacy, and she couldn’t get enough. 

Their heated kiss unwittingly broke when the Joker bumped into another nearby table. That was when Punchline noticed his shirt was half-open, having rid it of all its buttons. 

“Take that off,” she indicated with her knife. 

The Joker eagerly complied, and Punchline lined up her knife to the top button of his trousers. His hand flew to grab her wrist, and she looked up at him, snarling. 

“Ah ta ta ta ta,” the Joker admonished, relieving her of her knife as he shrugged off his top. “Now it’s my turn, dear.” 

She took a deep breath to collect herself at the sight of his bare chest. 

“Holy fuck, you’re shredded!” the awestruck compliment tumbled unexpectedly out of her mouth. 

Punchline’s eyes were like saucers, ogling his finely muscled chest and flat belly. She squirmed in place thirstily, and her leather boots squeaked as she wriggled like a fish out of water.

The Joker ran a gloved hand through his green hair, thoroughly enjoying her leering stare, and he returned her lecherous gaze as he waved her over with the knife. 

“Shredded, you say?” the Joker said when Punchline closed the narrow distance between them, pressing herself tight against his bare torso. “Another interesting word choice… since that’s what I want to do to _that_ —” he pointed at her bodysuit, then narrowed his eyes. “Huh, looks like someone else already tried to shred it…”

Taking the tip of the knife, he inserted it into an open tear in her sleeve, lifting it. Upon closer inspection he saw there were several more slits and tears all over her bodysuit and tights. 

“I did that myself,” she admitted. 

“You did?” 

“Not on purpose, obviously,” she righted herself. “But when you’re teaching yourself proper blade techniques, cuts are bound to happen.” 

“So you’re self-taught?” the Joker asked, impressed. He released the stretchy material, and it snapped against her skin. Punchline moaned softly, finding the sting of pain not at all unpleasant. 

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded, biting her lip as he glided the sharp knife up her arm and across her collarbone. He was exerting just enough pressure to cut through the fabric, but Punchline itched for _more_. “You can learn to do practically anything on YouTube these days.” 

“YouTube, eh?” the Joker said, continuing to slice through more fabric. “Say, I’ve got a few videos on there!” 

“Yeah, I know,” she replied with a flush on her neck and cheeks. “I’ve watched them all. They kept me from going crazy.” 

“Oh?” He stopped cutting, a joyful spark in his eyes. “How so?” 

“I see the world around us is falling apart and everyone is _pretending_ that it isn’t!” 

She placed her hand atop his, pushing down with such force that the knife in his hand pierced her skin, drawing dark red blood, and Punchline groaned not in pain, but pleasure. 

The Joker bent his head to where she was bleeding on her left shoulder and placed a warm, lush kiss there, staining his lips with her blood. When he lifted his head again, his usually red lips were even redder. 

“Yes, and Gotham especially has felt like it’s been pretending to be something it’s _not_ for a long time now,” he hissed before scooping her up. 

Punchline yelped as he spun her around with whiplash speed, sitting her down atop of a table. His bloodied mouth crashed against hers. 

“It’s so fucking hypocritical,” she panted, sucking in some air when he moved down to kiss her neck. A thrilling pulse ran through her bones. “This fake society—” she went on, breathing hard, “—it needs to come crashing down.” 

“Yes, it does,” he agreed vehemently, peering up at her, a wicked gleam in his gaze. It was undeniably apparent that he was extremely aroused. Perhaps it was the present chaos happening around them. Or possibly because she was half naked. Or maybe, Punchline thought, it was because someone had finally _understood_ him and what he stood for. 

Her body began to vibrate slightly when he told her, “And that day _will_ come… eventually… but right now, my sweet, I want to focus on making _you_ come crashing down.” 

“Go on then,” she encouraged him, her body buzzing. “Enough talk... get to work, _clown_.” 

She didn’t know what possessed her to call him that, but apparently it was the right thing to say judging by the haste with which he mangled the rest of her bodysuit, tearing it to pieces. 

At times, Punchline would shift so her flesh could catch the swing of his blade. Every time it made sweet contact, etching paper-thin wounds into her skin, a barb of heat shot straight to her groin, and she’d melt just a little bit more. 

The Joker caught on to her excitement. When it came time to remove her black push-up bra, he made sure the knife nicked her creamy skin as he severed her left bra strap. He repeated the same fluid action when he cut the other strap. 

“ _Oh,_ ” she breathed raggedly when the Joker finally, expertly, pushed the knife up between her sizable tits, snipping open the front of her bra. 

He pushed her back suddenly, slamming her hard onto the table, which had two deceased diners sitting at it, their faces frozen in horror-stricken glee. Her body burned with the heat and speed of a wildfire as he stared down at her. From the waist up she was completely bare to him, her nipples peaking and her insides turning. 

With the knife still in his right hand, he took off the glove from his left hand with his teeth. When he put his hand around her throat, her thighs opened wider. Punchline trembled at the contact, surprised to have found his touch bracingly cool. It was still quite exhilarating, though, especially when he pointed the knife at her throat. Then the cold metal slid down her exposed skin slowly, skimming over her breast and nipple, and stopping at her belly button. His left hand followed suit, giving a firm squeeze to her neck before gliding down. He smoothed over her right breast with his long fingers, pausing to cup it in his hand, teasing her rosy nipple into further erectness. 

“Well, aren’t you beautiful,” the Joker complimented and Punchline preened. 

She reveled as his hand moved, rubbing and smearing bright red blood from her minor cuts across her chest and waist. 

He bent to kiss her, and Punchline wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The Joker lowered his head, burying his face in her neck, inhaling deeply before licking, nibbling, and biting the nape of her neck. 

He worked more kisses down her body, her back arching when his hungry mouth found her full breast. She gasped and whimpered in pleasure as his warm tongue sucked and swirled, contrasting the chilly blade he was using to tease and stimulate her other breast. 

“That feels so _good_ ,” she moaned, digging into his shoulders so hard her nails left half-moon indentations through her gloves.

“Oh, Punchy, dear,” the Joker mumbled, raising his head, holding his face above hers. He had smeared more of her blood all over his mouth and cheeks; the sight of crimson streaks against his bleached skin was both strikingly beautiful and utterly _hot_. “We’re only just getting started.” 

Her eyes widened as she swallowed hard, feeling the knife trail down the center of her belly. He pushed off her, making her arms fall back down to her sides. He stood at the edge of the table to loom over her, her knees on either side of him.

She breathed raggedly. Her breasts were flawless and buoyant orbs of flesh, rising and falling as the knife crept lower, inch by tantalizing inch, towards her crotch. There was one last tiny piece of her mangled bodysuit left, neatly covering her wet cunt. 

The devious shine in the Joker’s eyes was undeniable as he used the knife to remove the damp scrap of fabric, tossing it over his shoulder. 

Her breathing hitched when he pressed the cold flat part of the blade to her labia. In that instant, she was grateful for having the preference of a clean shaven look. Judging by the way the Joker’s mouth crooked in a mischievous smile, admiring her, it was obvious that he preferred that look, too. 

“Like what you see?” Punchline asked coquettishly.

“Oh yes, very much so,” he replied cheekily, dipping his head. “But I should probably take a _closer_ look, just to be sure.” 

She watched him avidly, taking in every single movement as his face slowly disappeared between her legs. 

Her fingers and toes tingled in anticipation as she held her breath. 

The Joker held the knife completely still, and a gargled sob escaped her when his tongue teased lightly over her slit. He didn’t give her a chance to recuperate from the wild sensation before he sucked a labia torturously into his mouth. Then he deftly switched sides with the knife, his mouth sucking teasingly on the other side. 

“ _Ahh_ ,” she growled impatiently, not caring in the slightest if the knife snicked her from all the fidgeting she was doing, pleading, “More, I want more.” 

He responded by chuckling into her pussy, making her fists clench the table cloth. Both the rousing coolness of the steel and his warmness disappeared when the Joker shifted to jam the knife into the tabletop beside Punchline’s left fist. 

She whined at the brief loss of contact, but then the warm velvet cushion of his tongue was on her once more. She cursed, gasping for breath as his head jerked wildly between her thighs. He delved deeply into her hotly throbbing center, fucking her hard with his tongue, obscenely and frantically. 

“ _Fuck_ , that feels… _yes_!” she exclaimed, bucking her hips towards his face, almost suffocating him. 

Both were exceedingly vocal of their enjoyment, Punchline moaning and sputtering more obscenities as the Joker snarled and growled in animalistic pleasure, tasting, lapping, and sucking. 

She cried out when his hand found her breast again, his long fingers tugging and teasing her pert nipple. It was bringing her closer to the edge, but it was still just a bit beyond her reach. 

Pleasure ballooned inside her and she wanted to shout, wanting release, when the Joker’s mouth clamped around her clit. Her legs spasmed around his head, and her boots squeaked, locking him in place. She saw stars as a roaring sound filled her ears, finally tumbling over the edge, her body undulating with satisfaction. 

“Shit,” she huffed, breathless, slowly unclenching her fists and knees. 

The orgasm was, hands down, a thousand times better than any vibrator had ever been able to give her before. 

Punchline’s vision returned, allowing her to see the huge grin on the Joker’s face. 

He straightened, saying, “Well, I can _definitely_ now say that I do like what I see, Punchy, but I wonder…” 

“What?” 

“If—” he made a show of taking off his other glove, flexing his long fingers, and her green eyes stayed unwaveringly on his, arousal surging through her all over again, “—I’ll like what I _feel_.” 

He feasted his eyes upon her unabashed nakedness. Her gaze darkened. She silently willed him to touch her pussy, desperately desiring he assuage the lustful ache swelling deep within her, when a buried concern came to the forefront of her mind. She propped herself on her elbows. 

“I've heard the first time is supposed to hurt,” Punchline said, admitting her slight anxiety. 

“Hmm,” the Joker stroked his chin thoughtfully before placing both hands on her knees. “It may very well hurt—” his cool hands slid up her thighs, causing her belly muscles to twitch, “—but I don’t think you’ll mind the pain that much, _he he he_!” 

He stared pointedly at all the small cuts scored over her freckled flesh. 

She hummed softly, feeling silly for ever having been concerned in the first place. The Joker was right, and she trusted him. She believed him. 

She believed _in_ him. 

And just like that, a switch inside her had flipped on. Reflecting back, she saw how over the years her initial obsessive fascination with the Joker had turned into a fervent devotion, which then evolved into a deep infatuation that matured into... well… she could deny it no longer. 

_Love._

She loved the Joker.

And she relaxed, feeling relieved at the realization. 

There was nothing more that she wanted than to be with him, to be by his side. 

Worry dissipated entirely into full blown desire at the feel of his fingers running along her sex. 

“Don’t worry, dear, I’ve done this before,” he assured and while he had most likely said it to help further soothe her, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Her upper lip curled as she reached for her knife, jerking it free. In the blink of an eye she severed off the top button of his pants, and they pooled at his feet. 

“Just get on with it,” she grated out, lunging forward to pull him on top of her, “I’m ready for you.” 

Her lips parted expectantly as a palpable electricity pulsed between them. 

“You’re just such a _treat_ , aren’t ya?” the Joker barked out a laugh before kissing her hard.

She tasted both her blood and juices on him as his fingers brushed her inner thighs, growing more wet than ever. There was a maddening desperation, wanting his finger inside her, and he somehow heard her wordless plea because it happened so suddenly. The Joker plunged his finger inside her, finger-fucking her ruthlessly, furious and unyielding. 

“Oh _shit_ ,” her voice cracked as her eyes squeezed shut, goading, “yes, keep going, keep going.” 

Torment mingled with rapture, the pain enhancing the pleasure. A wild moan escaped her when he added a second finger, stretching her deliciously. She quivered from head to toe, reaching that sweet precipice once more. Punchline balled a fist around the tablecloth when he found that moan-inducing spot, rubbing, pressing, and swirling. 

Her walls began clenching around his finger but before she completely fell off the edge she wanted– _needed_ –to feel him inside her. 

“Fuck me,” her voice was high-pitched and unhinged. “I want your cock inside me. I want to feel _you_.” 

She tugged at his boxer briefs, swinging her knife, slicing it open in one downward stroke. She threw the ripped underwear over her shoulder before pushing up to kiss him. After dropping the knife, her gloved hands were free to roam down his chest and belly. Her right hand found his cock, wrapping around his shaft, and they both whimpered gruffly. His girth almost overpowered her small hand. She smiled wickedly through their kiss, stroking and caressing him as she guided the tip up and down her sodden entrance. 

The Joker elicited a feral growl, abruptly withdrawing his long fingers from her. Punchline didn’t get the chance to cry at the loss because his fingers were no sooner replaced by his massive cock. There was no easing into it, the Joker had no patience at this point—he was wretched, rabid–plunging into her with a single lunge, burying himself inside her. 

“Yes! _Shit_ , oh yes,” she gasped at the fullness. He slammed harder, sinking in as deep as he could go. She saw spots at the foreign, burning sensation. “Fuck!” 

Her vision cracked and blurred behind her dizzy eyes, blinded simultaneously by searing pain and the sharp bite of pleasure, a potent and thrilling combination. 

“I knew you would like it _rough_ ,” she heard his ragged voice say as he slid in and out of her, fast and furious, desecrating her tight sensitive space with his powerfully brutal strokes. 

“Yeah, fuck me _harder_.” 

He responded by drilling and pounding into her like the madman that he was, leaving her senseless and spurred. Somehow she gathered the strength to lock her long legs around his hips to move with him, bucking her hips to meet each and every savage thrust. The two fell into a frenzied synchronized rhythm, almost as if they had done this countless times before. They moved and fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a grisly jigsaw puzzle. Their frenetic rocking knocked over the lit candles on their table, falling to the floor, and the adjacent table caught fire, the blaze beginning to spread throughout. 

The Joker looked like he wasn’t going to last much longer, acting like a human piston, thrusting and pumping, pounding harder and faster. His head lowered to Punchline’s breast, his mouth engulfing her nipple with bruising force as his hand snaked down towards her sex, finding her clit. 

She screamed as her body pulsed with the overwhelming force of her orgasm, flowing through her like a tidal wave.

“That’s my beautiful girl,” the Joker mumbled approvingly before bellowing a guttural sound at the intensity of his own release.

They collapsed in a heap, panting and laughing once they realized fierce flames engulfed the majority of the lavish dining area. 

“So, I think I can definitely also say that I quite enjoy the _feel_ of you, too, Punchy,” he concluded, playfully booping her nose with his finger. 

He bounced off the table with a flourish, removing the expensive suit off the smiling dead man at their table. After placing them on, he offered Punchline his hand. 

How was it possible he still had any energy after all _that_? 

She was a bloody, sticky mess. Her limbs were jelly, still too weak to move from her bone-rattling orgasms, but she managed to take his hand, rising to stand weakly. 

She stripped an elegant mink fur coat off a dead woman and shrugged it on, immediately feeling much too warm even though she wore just her thigh-high tights and boots underneath. The stifling heat from the fire smothered her, making her eyes itch and water. 

The Joker searched the pockets of his stolen gray jacket, finding a luxurious gold cigarette case. He opened it before presenting it to Punchline. She accepted, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it on a nearby burning chair. After taking a long satisfactory drag, she exhaled a puff of cloudy smoke. The Joker did the same. 

The fire raged, consuming everything in its path, and the Joker stood watching mesmerized, entranced. 

“Soon it’ll be the entire city of Gotham up in flames like this,” he promised, sticking out his elbow. “It’s gonna be _beautiful_.”

She took his arm, and they strolled out the front entrance like an elegant, amorous couple as sirens blared in the distance. 

Glancing over her shoulder, Punchline gloried in the chaos of _Les Poissons_ going up in flames. 

“Are you planning something?” she asked the Joker as they walked side-by-side. 

The corner of his mouth twisted in a crooked half smirk, fixing her with a devious look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased jokingly.

“Yes, I would!” she exclaimed vehemently. “Tell me.” 

“Hmm, well the only thing I can say, dear, is that it’s _big_.” 

“I wanna be part of it,” she said with great enthusiasm. “Let me help.” 

The Joker whooped with laughter, throwing his cigarette on the ground. Punchline frowned.

“Don’t get me wrong,” the Joker said in between laughs, “I like you, Punchy, but what I have planned for this city, for Batman, it’s no laughing matter… Or rather, it is, but that’s beside the point.”

“Which is?”

“I need to make sure you’re not just another obsessed fangirl with delusional ideas and silly fantasies.”

“I’m not,” she affirmed. 

He cocked his head, saying nothing, the expression on his face inscrutable. 

“Let me prove it to you,” she stopped walking and moved to face him, gazing up into his dark eyes. “Let me show you how much I believe in you.” 

_How much I love you_ , she added silently. 

“Let me show you how much I want to make people laugh, too.” 

If he needed more proof, she’d gladly give it to him. It was of no consequence to her, she would happily rise to any challenge and he would get the reassurance he needed. There wasn’t anything she was unwilling to do in order to be a part of his grander vision. Soon, Gotham City would hear his message and then the whole world would see the truth, too. 

That absolutely _everything_ was a laughing matter. 

“Okay, you convinced me! Show me how _serious_ you are,” he said, grabbing her cheeks suddenly, mashing his face into hers and clamping his lips around her mouth. He broke the kiss just as swiftly, adding, “You know, I kinda think this could be the start of something—” 

“Hilarious?” 

The Joker sputtered into a jumble of demonical mirth, nodding his head. 

“Exactly, my dear Punchy.”

The devious smile playing across his mouth reassured her, and they ambled hand-in-hand into the night with the promise of a better city––a better _world_ ––on the horizon, within their reach. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so yes I know they didn't use any birth control and they barebacked BUT I feel like the Joker would be the last person in the world to practice safe sex so... yeah, lol. If you were for whatever reason worried about a pregnancy, don't. No babies were made during this encounter. ;) 
> 
> Now that that's outta the way, any other thoughts? Let me know :) 
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading my little one shot! If you liked this, I would absolutely love you forever if you left me a comment! <3 Feedback would be much appreciated!


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